


Birds of a Feather... Right?

by SkyGarde



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Exos are weird, Gen, Includes D1 and D2, Not always cannon compliant, Slow Build, Tags Are Hard, eventual angst, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-01-16 13:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12343929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyGarde/pseuds/SkyGarde
Summary: A story of three very different Guardians thrown together against the forces of Darkness. Facing demons inside and out they struggle to come together as Fireteam. A brilliant minded Exo haunted by the past. A human with ties to nothing except his glimmer. And a Titan just looking for a home.This is the story of Fireteam Flock and how they came to be.





	1. Fight and Flight

All he sees is flames. A huge pillar encompassing his last hope. A ship larger than anything to come before. A thing of fantasy novels of old and the third great ship is in flames. He sees it and despairs, then there is only blackness. Nothing more. How did this happen?

His blackbox just replays the memory. There must be something to learn. Something to more to understand, but there is nothing. He has been here watching his last memories go by and he feels disconnected. They are his yes, he knows that, but he didn’t live them. Not this version of himself anyways. He’s different, he can tell. Not by much, but enough to understand that something had changed. He tries to turn off his damned blackbox for what feels like the millionth time. The stupid thing wouldn’t quit showing him the memory no matter how much he tried to make it stop. His conscience had been cornered to the far reaches of his mind as if to protect him to whatever had happened to his body. He was stuck here with just that last memory and nothing else.

The flames return in his mind. He knows their every shape. Knows after a couple more seconds the flames will reach the fuel tank and then the rest of the ship goes up in a brilliant jet of fire. The memory hazes suddenly and he panics, is this it? The final deterioration of whatever had kept his mind alive for so long? The blackness that usually floods his vision is replaced with a brilliant white flash.

“Guardian?” A voice breaks through the sounds of every subsystem in his body rebooting and coming online. 

“Guardian. Eyes up, Guardian.” His visual processors come online and the infrared sensors that create his vision of the world come into focus. Blues and reds outline thermal and he can just make out the shape of what seem to be cars. The destroyed frames are all that remain, scattered all around him. 

“It worked. You’re alive” That voice again off to his left. He tries to look at it only for his neck to seize up. “Ah, be careful.” The voice says, “You’ve been dead quite a long time.” As the cords in his neck finally relaxed, he faced the voice and the only thing that filled his vision was a ball of light. At first he thought it was his processors overreacting to the sun, but as the light rotated and floated about him he realized it must be whatever had talked to him.

“What… what are you?” He croaked out. His years old voice box unready for the use.

“I’m a Ghost. Actually, now I’m your Ghost. And you’re going to see a lot of things you won’t understand.” The orb bobbed and dipped with each word like an overexcited child. He thought he might have to trust this little thing, at least for a while. As it had said he had no clue what was happening. Dead? It had said dead right? He didn’t have time to ponder it further as a chilling scream pierced the air. The little light looked towards the sound and then back to him almost nervously.  
“This is Fallen territory. We aren’t safe here. I have to get you to the city.” He just stared at it. This thing that was so sure of itself. So sure of it’s next action. It floated away from him a ways, as if in the direction of this ‘city’ it spoke of. Seeming to make up it’s mind it floated back towards him and then swiftly disappeared in a burst of light.

“Don’t worry.” It’s voice. Sounding from the back of his head. “I’m still with you, but we need to move fast.” As if proving its point, another scream split the chill air. “We need to get out of the open. Let’s get inside the wall.” He started as a point appeared in his vision. A small white diamond that wasn’t part of his normal picture. “That’s our objective,” the Ghost explained, “I’ll lead us through as best I can.” Ah, so that was it, he thought to himself. Taking off down the path he tried to remember how he had gotten here, but nothing came to mind. Only a snippet, a small clip of a memory played by. All it showed were flames. He just kept running. Trying outrun his fears of the unknown and the fears of something alien chasing after him. As he made it to the wall Ghost navigated him through a dilapidated doorway and up rusted stairs. Ghost mentioned trying to find him a gun and he agreed wholeheartedly. No one wanted a fight without a weapon. They passed through a dark and rusted hangar as Ghost reappeared next to him lighting the way.

“I actually can see without you.” He told the small thing. It seemed to deflate a little as it returned to wherever it had previously been hiding. “I meant, I can see in thermal,” he tried to explain, “I don’t need light to see.” The Ghost seemed to take this as an apology and perked back up. It quietly informed him of the close proximity of the ‘Fallen,’ as it called them.

He didn’t have to wait long to see one as it scrambled through the wall next to him. He picked up his pace as they entered a large space with pinpricks of heat signatures everywhere. Ghost separated from him saying that it would be better to have lights on against the fallen. He tried to catch the Ghost as it flew away from him. Couldn’t it see them? The creatures that crawled on the crisscrossing pipes like insects. Couldn’t he see the strange machines that seemed to hang in the air, waiting for movement. For prey.

As the Ghost turned on the lights in the factory, the signatures scattered. A gate next to him opened as Ghost reappeared and directed him towards a rifle that had to be as old as him, if not older. He rounded the corner just as some of the creatures dropped from the ceiling and walls around him. Startled, he hip fired into the crowd, scattering the four or so dregs that had appeared. Ghost tagged them with approximate health and damage as he refocused with more precise shots. Taking off two of their heads with the rest of his clip he rushed the last two. Lashing out with a knife he didn’t remember having, the dregs fell. He pushed on, eager to get out of this place and away from these things. He had no time to think here. Just time to react, shoot, reload, and start again.

As they exited the building, they came across a large open space in-between buildings. Antennae and satellites littered almost every roof and not too far off he could make out what seemed to be a ship. Something large with massive thrusters. Flames licked his memory and he quickly averted his gaze. Sprinting across the massive clearing he took aim at more Fallen that filled his path, dropped from ships that screamed across the sky. More dregs and now some vandals. He dropped two on his left quickly, changing clips swiftly he  
took aim at one of the vandals. Before he even had a chance to pull the trigger it fell with a baseball sized hole where he guessed its heart was. Ghost immediately went on high alert as he continued to fight the Fallen. Three more Fallen fell without so much as an echo from a gun before Ghost returned to him from a scan he hadn’t even known it had run. 

“I don’t understand. There’s not a soul within 300 meters that isn’t Fallen. Unless you have friends on the other side, I have no idea where those shots are coming from.” He sprinted into the nearby building hoping that his guardian angel didn’t become his end. “There should be an old jumpship ahead. Let’s hope it still flies.” He didn’t say anything as they entered the hangar with the jumpship only to find it surrounded by more Fallen. 

A large Fallen clearly bigger than the rest jumped down from the ship to face him. Ghost quickly tagged it as a Captain. He hastily ducked behind a pillar as flaming shrapnel shot towards him. He could do this he told himself. Besides the Captain, there were just three dregs and one vandal. He could do this. Deciding to ignore the bigger threat, he unloaded on the dregs as he sprinted between support columns. One dropped easily, while the other two jumped for cover. Seeing something flash in his peripheral, he dodged a split second before a plasma bolt sparked on the wall behind him. The vandal. How had he forgotten it? It stood in the back of the room taking shots on him as he darted around the room like a madman. The captain seemed content to see if its underlings could beat the newcomer and stayed in the middle of the room. Damn it, he thought, redoubling his efforts on the enemies actually attacking him. One dreg jumped out of cover too soon and was taken down by five quick shots of his rifle. The remaining dreg came out firing, but was not ready for a sudden knife to its chest and crumpled. Using the same knife he threw it at the vandal with an accuracy he didn’t know he had and moved on to the Captain. It raised its arms and screamed at him in what he assumed was a battle cry. Feeling something bubble inside him, he responded in turn, rushing the captain. The large creature fired at him, but he was too quick. Jumping over its head he poured a whole clip onto its horned head. He had just barely hit the ground before being hit square in the back by the captain’s large arm. He smacked into the closest pillar and he swore that if he could see stars, he probably would have. Instead, alarms blared in his head, warning of the danger of further impact. He pushed them all to the side trying to regain his composure as the captain turned to fire on him again. As he ducked behind cover once more he checked his belts for any remaining ammo. Ghost materialized then, bouncing in the air in front of his face.

“I think I’ve got something,” It said, “Hold out your hands.” Doing as he was told, Ghost dropped two items into his hands. “It’s all I could make in such a short time.” It apologized before dematerializing. He studied the weight of the two and pocketed one, telling himself to thank Ghost later. He had to make it count. He had one last magazine left in his rifle and now two grenades. He prayed that ghost made them with a big bang in mind. Sucking in a metaphorical breath, he slid out of cover straight into the armored mass of the captain. In a panic, he back peddled and poured his remaining ammo into it. While the captain is still stunned from his ‘surprise’ attack, he primed a grenade and tossed it. Hitting the floor it splinters into several pieces that glow in his vision and quickly direct themselves towards the captain. The multitude of explosions burst in his sight and for a moment he can't make sense of anything in front of him. After the blast dissipated and he is able to make out the scorched body of the captain laying on the floor.

“Well,” He says as Ghost appears checking the captain and then floating over towards the ship, “That was fun.” He thought he heard Ghost chuckle before it piped up, “Alright, let me see if I can get us out of here.” It scanned the ship in full before disappearing in its usual flash. Its voice played out of nowhere, “It’s been here awhile. Hasn’t made a jump in centuries. We’re lucky the Fallen haven’t completely picked it clean.” It reappeared near the cockpit and looked at him almost ready for his response. 

“Will it fly?” He asked anyways. With the voice of self assuredness he was slowly getting used to, the little thing replied, “I can make it work.”


	2. The Rookery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tower is full of interesting characters.

A peal of thunder brought the Exo out of his thoughts. He was trying to recall what exactly had him so scared when he had looked at that old ship in the Cosmodrome. He couldn’t for the life of him remember and it put him on edge. Ghost seemed to notice and floated a little closer to him. Normally, he wouldn’t mind but in the tiny cockpit, he was already feeling slightly claustrophobic and now Ghost was cramping him.

“You really have no questions?” it asked innocently, not seeming to notice his growing anxiety.

“No.” He snapped, harsh and final. Ghost backed off and he immediately felt horrible. It was just trying to help, he knew that. Something about the storm, he told himself. They would get out of it soon judging by the ship’s radar. “I’m sorry.” He told Ghost. “This is just a lot all at once, you know?”

“Most Guardians feel that way in the beginning. It’s natural to be overwhelmed.” It spun its sections around as if thinking. “I’m here to help as much as I can, but I found you so much later than most Ghosts find their Guardians that I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever find you.” That was the first time he had heard the little light so lost, so unsure. He decided that maybe both of them needed to get their minds off of things and thought about what Ghost had asked him. He tried to be as straight to the point as he could.

“Alright, so you said this ‘city’ is the last safe place on earth. Does that mean no one else lives outside it or somewhere else?” Ghost seemed to perk up a little at its guardian’s question.

“Almost everyone lives in the city. There are a few who live in the mountains, but we don’t have much contact with them. The city is definitely the safest place to be, though. I don’t know why anybody would want to leave.” Ghost seemed satisfied with its response as thunder rang out once more. “We should be there in a minute actually.” 

He checked the doppler and, sure enough, the storm was weakening. The ship broke through the last of the clouds into the blinding light of the sun. As his sensors recalibrated, he took in the sprawling city that was laid out before him. A large ring of a wall encapsulated it all. Neighborhoods upon neighborhoods stretched almost endlessly towards the city’s center. Hung in the air above it all must be what Ghost had called the Traveler. It was huge, almost the size of a small moon, the top of it just breaking the atmosphere. Like the moon though, it looked old. Huge jagged edges ran down the length of it and some chunks of it were simply missing. A battle had happened here, had it not been for this thriving city below it, he would have said it had lost. Ghost swung them around to face one of the six pillars on the wall, this being the tallest. The Tower, he thought. A place where the Guardians lived, where the Vanguard operated. On their descent, Ghost told him that the Vanguard would be in charge of mission assignments for him, including getting him in a Fireteam. Ghost dropped them off in the middle of a grand plaza. The place was bustling, and not with just Guardians. People of all walks and creeds were doing business, making small talk, bartering, arguing. This place was the center of it all, from sweeper bots to citizens to Guardians; it was obvious that this was the place to get business done.

“We’ll need to talk to Cayde-6 first,” it said almost immediately after they touched down. “Since you’re a Hunter and all. Then we need to get our ship looked at. I think Holiday should be able to help with that, but we should just start with Cayde for now.” It looked back at him, noticing his hesitation. “I know it seems like a lot right now, but we’ll get the hang of things,” it told him reassuringly. “Now come on, Cayde’s right this way.” it floated into the crowd then, positive that it’s Guardian would follow. Ghost led him down a flight of stairs in the middle of the courtyard. He noticed only Guardians and high ranking officers seemed to come or go from here. It made him nervous. How respected were these people? The Vanguard? Reaching the bottom of the stairs, a dark presence ghosted his mind. Flinching, he jumped towards the nearest wall.

“Ah,” spoke a voice to his left. “It has been a while since a new Guardian has passed through these halls. What do you see when you look at me, young Guardian?” The woman who spoke to him seemed seasoned, but more than that, she sounded tired. Of what, he couldn’t be sure.

“Uhm.. well, I can’t see like you can,” he started, trying to decide if he should trust this dark woman.

“Like me? I don’t think I see quite like anyone else either.” He really looked at her then, a woman in heavy armor, so heavy he almost thought it was bone. She didn’t seem to be old, but she didn’t have a Ghost and spoke as if she had seen the worst of several centuries. The he noticed what she was referring to, there were her eyes, three not two. They glowed even in his vision, three bright orbs that seemed to track his every moment. “So you see, even if we are different, we can still see. Do not use your own differences to cripple yourself. Others will try to do that for you.” She gestured past herself. “Now go on, it will be interesting to see what you will do.”

He gave her a solid nod of thanks and carried on. He entered the next room and passed a massive man in heavy armor who was yelling at several screens at once. He unfortunately couldn’t tell what was on them, each screen was just pure light to him. He started past the large man, making a mental note to hopefully never get on his bad side. As he approached the doors for what he assumed was the Vanguards’ hall, he heard more yelling, but unlike the yelling of the man behind him this was between multiple parties and seemed to be in anger instead of excitement. He stopped short of the open door, not wanting to bring attention to himself just yet.

“C’mon dude! You were just telling me I needed to get somebody on my team!” a voice rang out. A younger voice and from the sound of it, someone who wasn’t told no enough.

“I don’t think forcing someone you’ve never met to be on a Fireteam with you is a good idea!” The second voice was definitely not a human, it was more robotic in nature yet still carried the inflection of the person in charge.

“Look just give it a shot, okay? I mean, what’s the harm?”

“The harm?” scoffed the second voice, “You’ve basically made an enemy of every other Guardian in this damn Tower!”

“Ladies, ladies,” a third voice entered the fray. A cooler and more collected voice, it was the voice of a woman who was done with this conversation. “If you can’t settle this between yourselves in a more quiet manner, I may have to ask Zavala to intervene.” This comment rousted a groan from a fourth person. Probably this Zavala thought the whole thing was beneath his interference. While listening to the conversation had given him some insight into the people in the room, he figured it was better to go in now before he overheard something he wasn’t supposed too.

Rounding the doorframe, he gave a noise that was as close to clearing his throat as he could make. The room was huge. It was almost the shape of an oval with a center pit area that had a huge table in the middle of it. While there were several other people and frames in the room, there were four main figures surrounding the table. From the looks of it, these were the people who he had just been listened in on. At the head of the table stood a well built man who looked severely disinterested in the rest of the people in his vicinity. He was looking over a large stack of files and checking a tablet in his hand; this one had to be Zavala. On the right of the table was a slender woman with piles of books all around her. She seemed about as interested as the first man. On the left side were two people, one a lean, fit Hunter and an Exo who was sitting on the table. These were the two having the fight and it showed. Body posture and raised temperatures told him enough to know that this probably wasn’t their first fight, and yet they were still close. The two of them were the only ones who had looked at him when he had announced himself, the other two had each glanced at him once and then gone back to what they were doing. 

“Hey, hey!” The Exo stood up and walked towards him. “You’re new, right?” He seemed overly chipper.

“Uhh... yes?”

“Well, it’s nice to meet ya. I’m Cayde-6, but everybody just calls me Cayde.”

“Among other things,” quipped the other Hunter, obviously he wasn’t ready for their conversation to be over.

“This is Galen,” Cayde thumbed behind him. “He’s looking for a friend,” he crooned. Galen rolled his eyes and groaned. “Listen,” Cayde whispered, “It’s up to you if you wanna hang with him in the long run, but,” as he spoke his voice got louder, “Galen here is gonna give you a tour of the tower. If ya don’t hate him when you get back here, then I’ll let him run you for a couple missions. It’s completely up to you though.” He swaggered back to the table and pretended to be lost in some papers spread in front of him.

“Well,” Galen strolled up to him. “Let’s get going.”


	3. The Blue Jay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galen is a experience, to say the least.

To say his tour went smoothly would be a lie. The other Hunter, Galen, was completely disliked in the Tower. Everywhere they turned, he provoked and prodded others who seemed to be at their wits end with the Hunter. The Exo’s heightened hearing allowed him to hear the hushed whispers of those they passed.

“There’s that asshole who called me a thrall-mind.”

“He’s the one that almost crashed his ship into mine for the _third time_ yesterday.”

“I can’t believe the Vanguard still let that jerk fly.”

Either the man in front of him didn’t hear the comments or didn’t care as he continued his ‘tour’. He pointed out random strangers and payed merchants for strange things that he handed to the younger Hunter. He got passed a huge bolt of cloth, several sets of unsharpened knives, and an excessive amount of empty gun clips. ‘You’ll need them for later’ or ‘for practice’ were all he got as an explanation to the strange assortment.

From the looks of him, Galen didn’t seem extremely seasoned. He appeared to be on the younger side with softer features and had short cropped hair. Several hushed whispers and insults informed him that Galen had red hair and according to one fellow ‘blue eyes as sharp as the ones on his belt’. The Human wasn’t wearing much to the average onlooker. He wore a baggy sweatshirt and some slim jeans, but in the Exo’s vision he could see the man was packing a pair of sidearms and a set of knives hidden expertly about his body. It seemed as though even in the Tower this man did not feel safe. _Maybe he does hear the comments,_ the Exo mused to himself.

Galen never said much to him, only ever small statements like who someone was or what they did. The man said more to passing Guardians than he did to his shadow. He seemed almost uneasy leading someone, as if he was more content to sit back and relax, and yet that didn't feel like it was the whole story.

They were several stories under the main floor of the Tower by now, it appeared to be a part of the living quarters. Many long hallways stretched in all directions with plain doors filling them.

“Do these all belong to Guardians?” he asked, more out loud than to Galen.

“Yeah, though most of ‘em don’t spend their time here.” Galen continued to lead them down another corridor as the Exo behind him struggled to keep up. Eventually, he stopped in front of a door and looked back at the other Hunter. It seemed to be a bored expression, like he was waiting for something spectacular that he knew wasn’t going to happen for a while. When the Exo caught up to him, he gestured to the door. When there was no response, he sighed. “Your Ghost?” Trying to summon his ghost with his hands full was a particularly challenging event, the knives he had stacked in his hands tried to slide off the pile of cloth, which in turn almost took the gun clips with them. His Ghost popped up then and took in their new surroundings and company.

“Gonna have to get you a new shell too, huh?” Galen grumbled to himself as he checked something on a mini tablet he had pulled from seemingly nowhere. His Ghost took that cue to open the door, disappearing almost immediately after it opened. “Right this way, kiddo.” Galen gestured again, this time into the open room, as he barely even shifted his gaze from his tablet. The room wasn’t small, but it wasn’t spacious either. It was empty besides a desk, bed, nightstand, and lamp. He walked into the space and set his load down on the bed for now.

“There’s a closet to your right and ah, shit-” he looked back to Galen who seemed to be puzzling over his next words. “Damn, dude. I assume you can’t read a LED screen and I guess paper is also out, huh?” The Exo simply nodded, more caught off guard by the man’s tone than the question. It was one of puzzlement, not confusion or frustration. “I’ll see what I can hook up for ya, but in the meantime just ask your Ghost to send your messages.” Galen slapped the wall behind him, which gave a more glassy sound than he was expecting.

“This damn thing isn’t gonna do you much good right now.” As he finished his sentence, the panel on the wall booted up, a bright light in the dim room. Galen shut it off before returning his gaze to the small tablet in his hand. After thumbing it for a few seconds, he looked back up at the Exo.

“Now you’ve still gotta swing by the Hangar, but ah, meeting Holiday is something ya do alone. So!” He clapped his hand together and summoned his Ghost easily. “Ol’ Al here will send her location to ya. She’ll probably point you in Banshee’s direction after that. Don’t be offended if he forgets you, happens all the time. One last thing,” he pointed at the Exo in front of him. “What’s your damn name?” he asked, grinning like a schoolboy as he eased towards the exit.

“Crowe,” came the shy reply. “Crowe-13.”

Galen had just made it to the doorway when he stopped dead, and in a somber tone that chilled the Exo said, “Thirteen, huh? That’s not a lucky number, ya know?”

He left then, leaving Crowe alone for the first time since arriving at the Tower. The door still stood open and voices drifted down the hall. He closed it quickly, wanting a second more to himself. He turned around and slumped against the door. He summoned his Ghost who looked at him; it seemed puzzled.

“Yes?” it asked.

“I have those questions now.” he relented.


	4. The Cardinal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoever said nothing good happens in bar was wrong.

Galen sighed to himself, _How am I going to do this?_

He wasn’t the leader type and he really didn’t want to drag down this kid with his reputation. His feet took him out of the residential area and towards the nearest bar. Maybe he could drink his problems away. At least for a while.

A hand painted sign hung above the doorway to the repurposed restaurant. It read, _‘The Drunken Ghost.’_ Thankfully, it was one of the few bars that he hadn’t gotten thrown out of yet. There weren’t supposed to be any wet bars inside the tower, but as some Guardians say, drink finds a way. He was pretty sure the Vanguard knew about it but they let it slide because at least the Guardians weren’t starting outrageous shoulder charge fights in the city. Hunters and Warlocks also had their fair share of drunken brawls, but the Titans were known for being the more destructive type.

The bar wasn’t too packed; most of the tables were full but there was still plenty of room at the bar itself. As Galen took up position at the end of the bar causing multiple other patrons to immediately vacate their seats before he had even sat down. Another sigh escaped him as he quietly flagged down the bartender and asked for a Jack and Coke. Something stronger would’ve been nice, but he wanted to keep at least some of his wits about him.

Wandering thoughts emerged from his drink, _What am I going to do? The better question probably was why did I do it?_ But he wasn’t about to get introspective here. The bardenter returned with his drink as his thoughts slid back towards Crowe. The kid was a decent Hunter from what little he had seen. A decent shot with a rifle, quick reflexes, and definitely not afraid to improvise. Galen had tried to touch his Light a little when they had first met but that damn kinderguardian had it so buried that the Exo’s first experience with it was probably going to be more of an explosion. _Thirteen though, how unlucky could he be?_ It’s not that Galen was superstitious, but if years of living through disasters and tragedies taught him anything, it was to never tempt fate.

He held the cool glass against his temple. Maybe he needed more time. Good Fireteams were few and far between, and his last one had not ended on the greatest of notes. A boisterous laugh interrupted his melancholy thoughts. Sitting at one of the tables near him was a huge Titan. The Exo laughed again and Galen fully turned to look at him. The crimson red plates of his face were too familiar and the red horns across his brow gave him away completely. Azazel-2 was one hell of a Titan. He was gigantic even without his armor on, and had a heart the size to match. When Galen had flown with him in the past, they had had their fair share of arguments but Azazel protected him as if he was his brother. He could be quite thick at times, which almost caused the idiot to die and not in the way you could come back from. He was deep in conversation with another Titan and Warlock. Both of them looked on the younger side, but still somewhat seasoned. The Titan could’ve been Zavala, if Zavala had peach fuzz. The Warlock looked like she was his sister with the same light blue tint to her white skin and whiter hair that matched the shock of it on the man next to her.

Azazel did owe him a favor. Maybe he could pawn Crowe off. Not forever, of course. Just for a while, to get him more experience. He set his glass down and tipped the bartender well. No use getting kicked out of another bar if things got a bit rowdy. He and Azazel were known for being a little explosive when it came to each other.

He slid over to their table with the stealth only a hunter could have. Setting a huge grin on his face, he clapped his hand onto the Titans expansive shoulder.

“Hey there Az!” The Titan under him didn’t startle in the least.

“Galen,” he said without even looking at him. “What do you want?” His bright ruby eyes flicked Galen’s way in an expression that was easy to read even on an exos face.

“Hey now, I don’t always need something!” he feigned offense. “Although in this case, I do in fact need something.”

“What do you want?” The Titan repeated. His company shared a look; they had no idea who exactly this Hunter was but they weren’t going to interfere. _How kind of them_ , Galen thought.

“Well I’ve got this new Guardian that needs some more field experience, but I don’t have that kinda time, ya know?”

“New Guardian?” The Exo had caught the one thing Galen was hoping he would gloss over. There hadn’t been a new Guardian in the Tower in a while. If he had to guess, it had been about 20 years or so.

“Uh yeah, but listen that’s not a problem. He’s good with a rifle and ya know, it looks like your team here could use a Hunter.” He was starting to rethink his plan. Maybe this was too big a favor.

“Galen,”Azazel said sternly, bringing the Hunter’s eyes to meet his own. “How new?”

The Hunter was caught and he knew it. “Today,” Galen muttered more to the floor than Azazel. The Exo sighed, dropping his gaze. He should’ve known. There was no way this was ever going to work.

Azazel ran a hand across his faceplates, shifting them slightly, and just looked at the table in front of him. He mumbled something into his hand that Galen couldn’t make out. “If I do this,” he started as Galen’s hopes soared, “That’s it? We’re even?”

Galen wanted to kiss him. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” He clapped his hand against the shoulder once more. “You’re a lifesaver, big guy! I’ll have Alabaster send you his deets!” he exclaimed as he headed for the door. Tripping in his excitement, he nearly ended up in a very sour looking titan’s lap. He quickly apologized and left, leaving Azazel’s table mates in a daze.

The Warlock spoke up then. “So… what exactly did you owe him?”

“Nearly died. The permanent kind.” The Exo grabbed his drink and swished it around in the glass. “That blundering idiot used all of his remaining light in a dead zone to keep me breathing.”

“But he could’ve died himself,” the other Titan piped up, “He doesn’t seem like the type.”

“I thought the same ‘til I woke up with him practically crying over me. Said he couldn’t be alone.”

He chugged the rest of his drink and stood up. “Well, let’s go get ourselves a Hunter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas ya filthy animals!! And a Happy Holiday to everybody else!


	5. Learn to Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meltdown. Quite literally.

Crowe was falling into the rhythm of his new Fireteam surprisingly easily. They would go to the Cosmodrome, run patrols, scavenge for resources, returning to the Tower, and run hours on end of the Crucible. 

The Crucible was completely different from running in the field. Long corridors and hidden passageways allowed for strategy on a level he was unprepared for. He couldn’t help himself from crying out when a titan charged into him at full force, disintegrating him easily. The pace was breakneck and he had just barely learned to run. What scared him most were the supers. The Arc Light that cascaded off of a Hunter was like standing next to a building thunderstorm. The Solar hammers of a Titan that seemed to melt his soul. The feeling of being consumed by absolutely nothing as a warlocks Nova bomb crashed into him, the essence of Void. While teammates left and right of him built their Light and relished in its release, he was terrified. Each match it filled him like a glass, simple, easy, natural, but when he went to draw on it, flames swallowed every edge of his mind. Some terror from a memory unknown stops him short as his Light leaks out of him like a deflating balloon. His teammates followed up in the wake of his failed attempts. They could all feel the build and each time he fell flat he could swear the disappointment was palpable. Sometimes jumping straight into the deep end just caused you to drown.

When he wasn’t getting ground to a pulp in the Crucible, Azazel trained him in out-of-combat essentials. Each task used something from his pile of what he thought was just random things Galen had grabbed for him. The bolt of cloth was for sewing practice, whether for repairs or making his own cloaks. Crowe took to it like a fish to water. He easily learned the hardest stitches Azazel taught him and then his hands seemed to remember some more. It almost felt like muscle memory. Something he had done so many times he could do it with his eyes closed, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember why he knew it. Just another memory that slipped through his grasping hands like a fish slipping from his grip. 

Azazel taught him how to reload clips like it was second nature. He was taught how to pick up even the heaviest of ammo and immediately be able to use it. Every weapon had a different release mechanism and each of these he had to learn, Azazel told him. Crowe would’ve liked to say it had been easy, but the amount of bent magazines and jammed ammo told him otherwise. Nevertheless, he learned. Necessity was a brilliant teacher, after all. 

The one thing Azazel didn’t teach him was how to sharpen his knives. The older exo bought him a book instead; it was in braille so that he could read it. It had raised pictures and diagrams on several types of ways to sharpen blades, each of them with varying uses and practicality. He learned the difference between a throwing knife and a hunting knife. Not the first time in the past few weeks had he wished someone could teach him how to actually wield and make the blades, or anything for that matter. Azazel was trying his best, but it was obvious he was teaching from examples not from experience. He tried thinking of finding another teacher, but this goofy, know-it-all smile flashed through his mind and he decided he would stick with Azazel.

Throughout the weeks, Crowe began to notice someone was watching him. It was never anything huge, only ever small things. A blip in the comms, as if another was listening. Small plants and coins appearing in his room after missions, but only after successful ones. It bugged him a little, even though he could hazard a guess as to who it was. Still, it was mildly irritating. Why didn’t he just come talk to him? Say hello? Give congratulations in person? Was that so hard? It frustrated the living daylights out of him. He had no idea what he was supposed to be doing. Every day felt the same, the monotony was killing him and the one person who he would like to ask the most questions was keeping him at arm’s length. Azazel said to ask Cayde for answers, but the Vanguard Hunter seemed to dodge him as best as he could. He always had somewhere else to be or something else to do. He almost seemed guity each time he used his half baked excuses. It was as if he knew he didn't have the answers the young Exo was looking for and yet refused to tell him so. Crowe knew that if he had hair, it probably would’ve been pulled out in frustration by now.

The uselessness he felt in the field he quelled with frequent trips to the Tower Library. There wasn’t much that was in braille, but there was enough to pass the time. There were basic texts on the City’s enemies, with detailed descriptions of their locations, their weaknesses and strengths. Other books taught him the City’s history, like the Battle of Six Fronts and Twilight Gap. Some held ancient stories of a time before the City, a Golden Age, during which human innovation and expansion blossomed under the Traveler. Longer lives meant more technology. They built AI’s and terraforming engines that could reform whole planets. Eventually, humanity discovered ancient Vex structures which led to the realization that they were not alone in the universe. After a time and for a purpose in a war long forgotten, the Exos were developed as self-aware protectors of humanity. Even with the impending sense of dread that something else was in their solar system, humanity was not prepared for the Collapse. He brushed his fingers across the page, Crowe's hand faltered on the next line. Great ships were built and launched from all across the Earth, with the presumed purpose of fleeing an unknown enemy. Some of these ships escaped their launchpads while others did not. One such ship, the Exodus Blue, still remained in close proximity to the City, still anchored in its moorings. His fingers stumbled over the words. The ship, it seemed from observation, had burned where it stood, having exploded on its launchpad. 

“Find something interesting there, have we?” A smooth voice startled him from his reading. Over his shoulder stood Ikora Rey, the Warlock Vanguard. “I’m sorry to have startled you,” she said simply, “it is rare to find a Hunter in the library. Anything I can help you with?”

“Ah, no, it’s just-” he stuttered, that unknown fear returning. He flailed one hand towards his head, “Something, I uh-I can’t remember.” He looked back at the table, his frustration at the fleeting memory beating out the fear.

“I’ve heard of Exos having such troubles. Have you talked to someone about it?” She seemed genuinely concerned.

“I didn’t think it warranted bothering anyone about.” he said simply. Some part of him knew that he should’ve said something, asked someone, but at this point he was too self conscious to ask. As he spoke, that feeling built in the back of his mind again. The flight or fight response that continuously screamed ‘RUN’ at him. He grimaced, trying to shut it out, to focus on something else, anything else.

“Are you alright?” Ikora asked. He was hunching in on himself, his breaths coming faster and faster. He couldn’t escape the fear, not this time. Ikora moved to put a hand on his shoulder, “Is there anything I can d-” Her sentence was cut short as her hand was blown away from the Exo in a burst of intense Solar Light. 

Ikora barely had time to notice the man fleeing for his life as her attention turned toward her hand. The glove she had been wearing was a smokey ruin. No flames or embers burned in the near vicinity either. She hadn’t felt something like that in a long time. Standing up slowly, she took in the rest of the room, mentally checking to see that no one else was hurt else had been hurt and that no books were in danger of being spontaneously set ablaze. Summoning her Ghost, Ikora quickly pinged the rest of the Vanguard. They had to find that Hunter before he hurt himself or, Traveler forbid, someone else.

Leaking Light like he was Ikora knew the Hunter wouldn’t be able to get far. She was able to easily follow his trail through the Tower and up to the main level. Up here, he was harder to track. The amount of Guardians, who were all now on high alert, made following one line of Solar Light particularly challenging.

“Ikora, over here!” came a cry from up past the bounty board. Cayde was standing on his tiptoes trying to flag her down over the amassing crowd. Zavala was there attempting to barricade the way onto the upper terrace, as everyone who felt the surge of Light was trying to see what was happening. The gathering Guardians parted as Ikora made her way up to the rest of the Vanguard, they all knew not to get in her way, no matter what class they were. Making her way to the top of the steps, she surveyed the situation. If the rogue Exo really couldn’t control his Light, having this many excited Guardians around wasn’t going to help, not with all of their Light jangling through the air.

“Ikora, what’s happening? We all felt this huge Light surge and it hasn’t stopped!” Cayde spoke to her as if his systems were overclocking due to how many thoughts he was struggling to convey simultaneously. “I mean, I followed it here, ‘cause I’m awesome, but I would still really like to know what’s going on. Like specifically.”

“As would I,” Zavala chipped in, though he seemed more focused on the still gathering crowd rather than their conversation. If Ikora was a betting woman (and she wasn’t anymore), she would say Zavala was about two minutes from just popping up a Ward of Dawn just to keep the people back.

“I am not so sure myself,” she started simply. “I was just talking with the young man in the library and then he just went off.” Her brow furrowed, she really tried to think about what she might’ve said that could have set him off in such a way, but nothing came to mind.

“Wait wait wait. Time out here.” Cayde threw his hands up and made them into a ‘T’. “Young man? This isn’t our new Guardian friend, is it?”

“Yes?” she said puzzled. “If your ‘friend’ is a bright blue and orange Exo, then yes.” Cayde drew his hands up to his face and closed his eyes, almost as if in prayer. Confused, Ikorawatched the hunter as he took a deep breath that he didn’t really need.

“So, um, our friend in there? He, ah, may be experiencing his first actual Super,” he almost whispered.

“He, wHAT?” Zavala practically yelled as he spun to grab the Hunter Vanguard. Cayde danced out of his way nimbly with his hands held in surrender. It seemed as if he was expecting that exact reaction from his fellow Vanguard.

“Now is not the time to worry about that,” Ikora interjected. “For now, we must help resolve the situation. If this is indeed his first time, he probably has no idea how to channel it. Cayde, you should probably go see if you can talk to him. As it is, he’s leaking too much Solar Light; if he doesn’t contain it, he may not live.” Cayde seemed to swallow whatever he was about to say. They all knew it was possible to die, to well and truly die, but that hadn’t happened to a Guardian in over two decades. Ikora turned away from the Exo as she went to help Zavala explain what was happening to the crowd. Turning to face the gates to the Terrace, Cayde brought out his datapad and swiftly pinged his Nightstalkers, hoping to the Traveler that at least one of them was in the Tower. Slipping through the gates so as not to disturb the rest of the Vanguard, he entered the terrace. 

The Traveler’s Walk, as it was called, was more a courtyard than a terrace. It was large and well-lit, with plenty of space to sit and relax, it was the perfect place to be alone. Yet Cayde wasn’t alone as he entered the normally calm space. At the end of the terrace, there was a Hunter crouched against the railings, gripping onto them for what seemed like dear life. Solar Light visibly cascaded out of him in bright orange and white waves. The railings looked warped under his grip, most likely melted into the shape of his fists. Cayde felt like he was walking deeper and deeper into a furnace the closer he got to the other Exo. The small antenna-like ears on the younger Exo’s head were twitching wildly, as if reacting to something that wasn’t there.

“Hey there, buddy,” he started as he continued inching his way closer. “It’s your pal, Cayde. Remember me? Cayde-6?”

“Yo-you have to run,” came a strained voice from the huddled figure in front of him. “It’s on f-fire.”

“Hey, I know Solar is hard but you’ve gotta focus. Focus it into something,” Cayde said in an attempt to soothe the Guardian. He would have moved closer, but even from several feet away, he felt like his beautiful horn was going to melt off.

“It’s-it’s going to explode.” The voice from the young Exo wavered dramatically. It sounded to Cayde like a failing voice box, and due to the heat he was feeling from this far away, he wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what it was.

“Now, I’d really prefer we not explode today. I’ve got some plans later, you know?” The Solar light started coming in hotter and hotter pulses. Cayde was still a few feet away from the Hunter, but he knew that if it got any worse, there’d be only one course of action for the Vanguard. “C’mon buddy, try to put it into something. You’ve gotta hurry up and come out of it before I have to put you out of it.” The only response he got was a groan and and an increase in heat. Cayde hung his head and slipped his hand back towards his holster.

Just as he was about to unholster his pistol, an arch of cool light shot past him and stuck into the ground next to the other Exo. Cayde scrambled back immediately as he recognized a Nightstalker’s tether. He watched as the Void Light latched onto the nearest life, abruptly ending the Solar storm. In the wake of all of that Light, the surrounding air was suddenly cold. The tether easily stopped the outpouring of Light, and without it, the young Exo simply collapsed. Cayde sat there a moment longer, still somewhat stunned. A figure dashed past him and quickly waved the tether out of existence. Of course, Cayde thought to himself.

Galen easily picked up Crowe’s smaller frame and shifted him onto his back, laying the Exo’s head in his lap.  
“Crowe? Hey Crowe, c’mon wake up.” He lightly tapped the Exo’s cheek. “I swear to that forsaken ball in the sky, if you don’t wake up, I’ll-I’ll-” he trailed off. He knew he probably meant very little to the man he had basically ran away from. Still, he gripped the motionless frame under him, afraid that if he let go, Crowe himself would go too.

“You’ll do what?” came a croaked reply. The head under his hand tilted back as if to mock him. Crowe moved one of his scorched hands over the one on his cheek. “I didn’t know you cared,” he joked.

“Well, wouldn’t you like to know!” Galen cried indignantly, shoving Crowe off of him. “You do more shit like that and know one will ever know. I mean, what the hell was that?” He gestured wildly to their surroundings as Crowe pushed himself up into a sitting position. The floor was blackened where the Exo had previously been huddled and several railings were melted into unusual shapes. Crowe held a hand to his head attempting to recall the last hour.

“I don’t know. I just remember burning.” His voice box crackled with each word. 

“Yeah, I remember that too.” Cayde finally piped up. He walked over to the pair of them and rested a hand on Galen’s shoulder. “You guys should get out of here. Thanks for saving my ass and all, but it’s about to get served to me by a very angry Awoken in about a minute. So, uh, yeah… get out of here. I’ll cover for firecracker over here, but uh, get a lid on it in the meantime?” He swiveled around and headed back towards the gate. “If you all aren’t out of here by the time I reach that gate, I’m turning you over to Ikora.”

Galen turned to Crowe with a terrified look on his face. Grabbing the Exo by one hand, he pulled them both up and summoned his Ghost with his other. 

“Get us out of here!” he relayed to Alabaster. With a small nod, she transmatted them to the relative safety of Galen’s ship. Before Crowe even took in his new surroundings, he snatched Galen’s other hand, forcing them to face each other.

“What just happened?!” he cried.

**Author's Note:**

> Big shoutout to my friend AesirHighblood for being my secondary spellcheck and "adding spice to my wordsalad."
> 
> We'll see how far I get with this between working and playing D2 till 3 in the morning.


End file.
